Confessions of a Mary Bennet
by Margaret920
Summary: I am no Elizabeth Bennet. I am no Jane Bennet. I am no Lydia bennet. No. I am plain old Mary Bennet...in the 21st century that is. Where is my Mr. Darcy? Or at least give me a Mr. Collins! But life is not easy for a Mary Bennet in college. Modern Fic.
1. Chapter 1: The Chair

**A/N**: I just can't get enough of Mary Bennet! Hopefully those who have liked A Misunderstanding of Character would like this as well. I got my insiration from reading "I am Charlotte Simmons". Enjoy!

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**Confessions of a Mary Bennet**

**In the 21st Century**

by Margaret920

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**The Beginning: The Chair**

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I am no Elizabeth Bennet

I am no Elizabeth Bennet.

I am no Jane Bennet.

I am not even a Lydia Bennet.

No, I am (unfortunately) a Mary Bennet…in the twenty-first century that is. And being a Mary Bennet in these trying times is not exactly the best thing in the world.

You see, I have already given up the fantasy of being a proud and witty Elizabeth Bennet who meets her equally proud and handsome Mr. Darcy. Of course, at one point of my life, I was as delusional as to think that I would eventually meet my Mr. Darcy who falls in love with me despite my obvious faults. But that was a long time ago, now I am completely devoted to being a Mary Bennet.

It's not like being Mary Bennet is bad, per se, it is just inconvenient at times. Actually, it give me quite a bit of free time left over after all the social obligations I have to attend, not that I have a lot of that either. However, I have to admit, being born in a Bennet-like household does not help the situation very much.

There is my father, Mr. Charles Hayward. He worked as an English professor at Boston College for about twenty years before retiring several years ago. Now, he usually just reads and writes at home. He is good father, though he does have an annoying habit of shutting himself in his office for long periods of time doing God knows what.

Then there is my mother, Mrs. Karen Hayward. She is perhaps the long-lost twin of Mrs. Bennet, because apparently the only thing that she cares about is, in order of importance: herself, her clothes, and her son-in-laws. Yes, it is quite embarrassing when the kids at school flirt when your mother when she picks you up and being mistaken for her sister instead of daughter. This might either imply she has too much plastic surgery or that I look too old for my age.

There is my lovely sister Bridget who is like Jane Bennet in many ways because she is just too sweet and beautiful for her own good. Then comes my second oldest sister who is aptly named Elizabeth, who is basically Elizabeth Bennet with a different last name. There is no Kitty in the family, but we do have a Lydia. That is my younger sister of four years, Megan who already gained quite a reputation for herself before she started high school.

And oh yes, there is me. How should I describe myself? I am the least significant of the famous Hayward sisters. I have dark hair that comes from nowhere since my father has dark brown hair while my mother has blond hair. They always say I look exactly like my great-Aunt Rose.

She died at the age of eighty with a house full of cats and was reputed to be crazy.

My poor eyesight also apparently come from her since according to mother, all Haywards have perfect eyesight, except for me and my Aunt Rose of course. My eyes are grey, but nobody really sees them because they are usually looking down in a book or covered by a pair of magnifying glasses that I call my spectacles. I am not too tall or too short about 5 feet 5 and I really am not too smart, beautiful, witty, funny…Come to think of it, I am not too much of anything. So in short, I am just ordinary.

Of course, ordinary really does not really suite my family, so I am usually the one who is left out. On family photographs, you can never really see me since I am usually either taking the photo, burying my face in a book, blocked by Megan's hair, hat, and etc, or just half of my face is visible since the person taking the photograph was too lazy to adjust the frame to fit all of me as well. This is probably why when I say my name, the responses would always be, "Oh really? Are you like a cousin of Bridget? You don't look like her." Or "Really? Your sister Lizzy is so funny!" Or perhaps, "Really? Say hi to Megan for me ok?" And my personal favorite: "Ha ha! You have got to be joking."

Yep, that was how I passed high school, being Ordinary Anne with a family of not-so-ordinary people. For God's sakes, even my name is ordinary!

Anyways, back to my life story here. So I graduated high school with very good marks and because I liked it so much, I went to Dartmouth. Now don't start thinking I am a dumb blond who gets in an Ivy League just by being a dumb blond on that movie "Legally Blond". So I may not be brilliant like the rest of my family, but I do work very hard. I guess working hard really comes to you naturally when there is really nothing else to do on Saturday nights except for studying. And don't start thinking I am a complete loner, because I am quite a sociable person when I want to be. I am my mother's daughter you know.

So the real story really started at the beginning of junior year at Dartmouth when I was about 20 years old and still living in the school dorm on campus. I decided my dead-end major would be English, for I am just the dead-end sort of person I guess (no offence to English majors out there). My father would have been proud if Lizzie didn't call the next moment saying she got into Yale Law School. I guess that's how my life have always been. I remember when I learned to how to ride a bike when I was five (I am not the athletic sort of person). So I ran to my mother to tell her the good news, however just then my baby sister Morgan said her first word. When I got my acceptance letter to Dartmouth, which is perhaps one of the proudest moments of my life, I ran to my dad to tell him the good news. However, apparently my sister Bridget just called him saying she just got engaged, so my Dartmouth became old news in a few seconds. But I guess that's life, and believe me, I am not resentful.

God, I am rambling again.

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Anyhow, back to my story. So that year, I was to get a new roommate since most of my classmates had already found an apartment of their own while I was stuck in a mouse hole of a dorm. According to a brief information sheet the school gave me, she was a sophomore of 19 named Charlotte Chandler, majoring in Foreign Relations and supposedly extremely fond of reading (like me). Thus, it was with mixed anticipation that I waited for her in our dorm.

There was a light knock on the door and I quickly got up to open the door to reveal my new roommate staring back at me. The first thing I noticed was a head of shockingly blond hair that seemed less real than that smile plastered on her face. She cocked her perfectly manicured eyebrows at me and cringed her nose as if she had just smelled something gone bad.

"Uh…Hi, my name is Anne, Anne Hayward," I tried to introduce myself and held out my hand.

The girl's left eyebrow cocked even higher at my hand and held her head a little bit higher before pushing her way past me into the room.

"Ok, let me, like, set the rules first, ok? Miss Sweatpants?" At this, I stared down at my comfortable, but undoubtedly unfashionable pair of grey sweatpants. Hey, I am a poor college student. I don't have enough money to look like the real-life Barbie everyday.

"First, when I have, like, a guy here, you better leave the room, ok? Looking at you might turn him off. Second, don't you dare touch anything of mine. My clothes are worth more than everything you own. And third, don't talk or associate with me in public, ok? I am, like, already humiliated for getting stuck with you for my roommate and I don't want my social life to be ruined. Do…you…un-der-stand?" She asked slowly as if she was talking to a mental delinquent.

"_No_," I said sarcastically and rolled my eyes, "Well, I am off to the library, if you want to know."

"I _don't_ want to know."

Yep, that was the wonderful roommate I was to be stuck with for the rest of the year. I quickly made my way across campus to the library, my sanctuary. I sat down in my favorite chair and picked up a random philosophy book to read. Soon, I was lost in my reading.

"Excuse me, you are sitting in my chair," a voice said from behind me. I immediately jumped up and was just about to say a hasty "sorry" when I recognized the face in front of me. There was no mistake about it. It was James Ashworth.

Of course, everyone knew of James Ashworth on campus. I had only heard of him from others and seen him once before. However, it seemed as if everyone knew of him. He was the president of the most elusive fraternity on campus, Delta Phi Alpha, and the son of Senator Edward Ashworth. I saw him once at a dinner held at the Dean's office because both of us were on the Dean's list. I, being the wallflower that I was, spent the evening sipping champagne (I never liked any kind of alcohol) and chatting with passing acquaintances. _He_, on the other hand, spent the evening dancing, laughing, and flirting with everyone. He even came up to me for a moment and said a quick "hello" before being whisked off by a girl.

And here he was, right in front of me, with an annoyed look on his face. I didn't know why I didn't just sit at another chair, like I would have usually done. Perhaps it was from my humiliation that morning with Charlotte (the roommate), or the fact that he had just interrupted me from an intriguing paragraph in my book. Somehow, I, Anne Hayward, found myself still sitting in the chair.

"Did you hear what I said? _This_," James Ashworth pointed angrily at _my_ chair, "is _my_ chair. Now, if you will please, I have to study."

Really, if he just asked me nicely to sit somewhere else and stop calling _my_ favorite chair _his_, I would have graciously left. I mean, seriously, where is that famous Ashworth chivalry?

"_Your_ chair?" I surprised myself when I heard me say those words in a clear voice, "I fail to see a name on this chair that says it belongs to you."

"Do you know who I am?" He now asked in a highly irritated voice, "I am _James Ashworth_. My family foundation built this wing of the library! Can't you just get your things and get up from this stupid chair?"

"Look, _James Ashworth_, I am not leaving this chair no matter how many wings your family builds. If your family can afford this whole damn wing, why don't you ask daddy to buy you the chair then?" I should note I do not usually yell at strangers. But this person was really getting on my nerves at that moment.

"Look, this is my favorite chair," he said slowly, "I understand that you freshmen do not understand how things work around here, so I will just look past this incident and forgive you if you will just sit somewhere else from now on."

"Oh, pardon my ignorance Sir Ashworth, I am _so_ sorry!" I said with a streak of sarcasm and proceeded to continue reading my book, completely ignoring the person in front of me. Apparently, my body language did not convey my message to the person in front of me.

I heard him give a soft snort and said, "'Stubborn and ardent clinging to one's opinion is the best proof of stupidity'"

Seriously, who is he kidding here? You think a de Montaign quote like that would baffle an English major, who also happens to be reading a philosophy book?

"Are you trying to say I am stubborn or stupid?" I asked with clenched jaws.

He smirked, "Both."

"Well, perhaps you are acquainted with the saying…" Note to self: I really should think before I talk now, "um…'Those who speak…are those who are'"

Stupid! I mentally hit my head against the wall. What kind of made-up philosophical quote is that? Couldn't I have thought of something smarter? Or at least made sense?

"Hmm, I do not think I have heard of that one before."

Well obviously not.

"Well, it fits you perfectly," I continued on, "It is just like that other saying, 'Those who don't understand, don't do."

Alright, by that time, things were just coming out of my mouth.

James Ashworth looked at me strangely while I tried to hide my burning face from sight. He gave out a small chuckle and said while crossing his arms to look down at me, "What an _insightful_ quote. But I happen to have a better one to describe this situation."

I looked up at him in confusion. "What?"

"It is a quote from yours truly…'GET OUT OF MY CHAIR!'"

He yelled at me. He yelled right into my face. He had the audacity to yell at an innocent girl who just happened to be sitting in the wrong seat at the wrong time. I mean seriously, it was just a chair!

And there was no way I was going to just get out of the chair like an obedient servant. No way. My day was already horrible, and I was not going to leave without putting up a fight for that stupid chair.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I seethed as I stood up until our faces were about three inches apart, "You come in here and expect me to just give up my seat like this? Just because you are _James Ashworth_ does not give you any special privilege in this college. And guess what? I also have a good quote for this situation."

"What" He glared into my eyes.

"It is a personal favorite of mine…'GET OUT OF MY FACE!'"

Haha! Take that James Ashworth. I laughed inside when an appalled look plastered on James Ashworth's "beautiful face", as most girls would describe it as. I suddenly had the urge to get out a camera and take a picture of that horrified look on his face.

It was as if nobody had ever said "no" to him before. But then again, what can you expect from a spoiled brat like him?

I was soaking in my moment of triumph when someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned around to find a furious old lady with an arm full of books. Uh oh. Angry old ladies are never good signs.

"Young lady, do you know where you are?" She asked me furiously as she jabbed her finger repeatedly into my shoulder (which surprisingly hurt).

"In the library…" I tried to put one those guilty/cute look girls do to get out of speeding tickets. But I guess that wasn't working, which either implies that the woman is immune to cuteness or that I was not cute. Personally, I think it is the latter.

"And what is the first thing _not_ to do in the library?" She still kept on jabbing.

"Don't return books?" I laughed meekly. Come on, I thought it was a little funny. Ok, so maybe it wasn't funny at all, but the woman kept on jabbing her pointy fingernail into my skin.

"Don't try to be smart. And no, the rules clearly state _no yelling _in the library. You are disturbing those who are trying to learn."

"B-but it was not me who provoked my outburst. It was _him_!" I pointed at James Ashworth, "_He_ was the one who yelled first. Didn't you hear him?"

"No, young lady, all I heard was you. And anyways, Jamie knows not to yell in the library, don't you, Jamie?" Suddenly, all the acidity towards me was gone, and the old lady patted "Jamie" on the back. It was like watching the Wicked Witch of the West turn into Toto. Alright, bad analogy, but you get the picture.

"Of course, Mrs. Herman. The only thing you could have possibly heard from me was me telling this vulgar girl not to yell in the library," James said with a grin toward my direction before taking the old lady's arm, "But I am afraid this girl is just too far off from proprieties in society to understand that she cannot yell in a library."

What the hell?! He talked as if I was a savage!

"And she just talked back to an elderly lady. Though it might not be a written rule in the library, it is a common curtsey, at least in polite society. Do you not agree, Mrs. Herman?" James continued sweetly, "Perhaps it would be best to just ban her from the library for such acts of profanity."

Ban me?! Ban me from my sanctuary? Don't tell me the lady is going to buy this bull –

"You are right, Jamie," Mrs. Herman said with a sweet smile before turning back to me angrily, "Young lady, if you cannot follow such simple rules, out now!" Again, she started poking me with her sharp fingernails.

"B-but you can't – Please, don't listen – I am inno –" I tried to say to Mrs. Herman as she started walking away, but my efforts were fruitless.

"Jamie dear, would you please make sure this young lady is out of the library within five minutes? I am afraid I have to shelf some of these books," Mrs. Herman completely ignored my protests and waved goodbye to "Jamie".

"Of course, Mrs. Herman, have a nice day. Perhaps we should have tea together sometimes. I will call you!" James waved back like the perfect gentleman that he is, "And say hi to Joanne for me!"

I could only gap at the scene. That two-faced bastard! I watched as James turned around to face me with the same fake smile that was plastered on his face in front of the librarian.

"Oh, you are still here. Are you deaf as well? Shouldn't you be packing up now?"

By then, I was seriously considering punching that smug face blue.

But I took a deep breath and calmed myself. I reminded myself the teachings of Taoism. Remember The Three Jewels: compassion, moderation, and humility. Learn to restrain your anger, show love for –

"Don't tell me you are as stupidly stubborn as you are annoying."

Oh forget Tao! This kid's dead! So what if he is a senator's son and I might mysteriously disappear from the face of the earth when his father dispatches the Secret Police to get me and my family? So what if the sorority girls might murder me for killing the fraternity king. I am not scared of those girls! I got a yellow belt in karate! (Actually, the sensei just felt bad for me when I still had a white belt after about four years of classes) And so what if I am not exactly sure what I will do when I get to jail? I could always plead insanity.

Ok, so maybe this wasn't a good idea, but in my mind…well let's just say that pretty face on James Ashworth would not be so pretty after what I'm done with him…in my mind, of course.

"If I am as stubborn as I am annoying, you are as smart as you are stupid!" I yelled out the first thing that came to mind, and before I could see the annoying smirk that I knew would be plastered on James' face, I left the library with my head held high. Yes, I still had enough dignity left after all that.

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A week after the chair incident, I went back to the Ashworths' wing of the library (I was no longer banned), and found a plague on _the_ chair:

Property of James Ashworth

DO NOT TOUCH!

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And that, was the beginning of it all. With the chair. And that bratty bastard.

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**A/N: **So this is what I have been working on for a while now instead of updating. Hopefully everyone likes this story. There is not many modern stories about Mary Bennet out there. REVIEW PLEASE! Or else I will just delete this story...


	2. Chapter 2: The Misunderstanding

**The Misunderstanding**

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James Ashworth.

The name itself made me sick in the stomach. And unfortunately, it was a name I had to hear on a daily basis.

Why?

Because of my roommate, Charlotte. Dear Charlotte was the type of girl who chased after guys. Not just _any_ guy. It's the frat boys, the jock boys, the preppy boys; the type of boys who would give her some kind of recognition in the school.

Or more specifically, all the jerks.

Now, I would normally never care what kind of taste my roommate has in guys. But Charlotte was the type of girl who liked to show off. The thing she liked to talk about the most was who she hooked up with at the latest fraternity party. Usually, at around 3 A.M., she comes back to the dorm in a drunken stupor and wakes me up with whatever she stumbles on. I, being the light sleeper and kind person that I am, would usually help her to her bed. And usually, she would tell me about all the guys she met. And usually, the name James Ashworth would come up.

"You know, _James Ashworth_ was there tonight," Charlotte once said to me, on another one of her nights out. She gave me a big, drunken smile and continued, dreamily, "He told me that I looked…_hot_."

I would usually never say anything when she went on one of her drunken speeches. But whenever she said something about that damned James Ashworth, I would cringe. I mean seriously, who do girls even like him? He might be somewhat handsome, and obviously rich, but it doesn't take away from the fact that he was a complete jerk!

I was telling this to my friend Ellie once after I was kicked out of my room because Charlotte had some guy from the football team with her, and I had nowhere to go.

"Have you ever thought that perhaps you are just jealous?" Ellie asked nonchalantly as she momentarily took off her ear plugs that were blasting some kind of heavy metal music.

I looked at her incredulously and said, "Ellie! How can you say that? Why would I ever be jealous of Charlotte?"

"Because," Ellie answered with a bored look on her face, "Whenever you come here now, you are always talking about either Charlotte or James. It's always James this, James that, Charlotte this…."

Alright, so perhaps you are asking how I, Anne Hayward, incarnation of Mary Bennet herself, can be friends with such a straight-talking, sarcastic, anti-social, heavy metal-loving girl like Ellie. Well, you see, we are both outcasts. We just don't fit in anywhere else. And when that happens, you naturally gravitate towards the only other person who does not have a lab partner during freshman year Biology class.

Now that I think about it, our friendship was essentially formed from the dissection of animal testicles. That's got to say something about our friendship.

Anyways, I paid no heed to Ellie's comment because I know that was completely wrong. I mean I am a Mary Bennet. Mary Bennet could never be jealous of a girl like Charlotte. Plus, I was already in love with someone else.

"James Ashworth is a moronic, arrogant idiot. Why would I ever have any sort of liking towards him when I have my Michael?" I said.

Alright, so technically Michael was not "mine" no matter how much I fantasized about it. I mean Michael was the epitome of Mr. Darcy: handsome, smart, passionate, opinionated, and most of all, kind!

I met Michael when I was just a freshman. It was during the beginning of the school year and I was still not sure about where everything was. On my way to the cafeteria, I got a little lost and found myself in the middle of a political demonstration held by the school's Democrat club. At the time, I really did not have much of an opinion in politics, but nevertheless found myself shouting random things along with the student Democrats there.

So it was there that I first met Michael. He stood a few feet away from me, but even amongst all the shouting, I could only hear his voice. It was as if he shone above all others. That passionate flare in his eyes and the way he so assertively waves his sign…I thought I had fallen in love.

From then on, I joined the Dartmouth Democrats and began my passionate work to reform the country. I started working for _The Dartmouth_, the school newspaper because Michael was also a freshman reporter for the newspaper. I joined the Chess Club though I knew nothing about Chess (and still suck) because Michael was a part of the team. I started going to the library constantly in hopes of seeing him there. I even took a political science class during freshman year just so that I could be in the same class with him.

I know, I sound like a stalker. But that was the way I was back then: completely in love, and completely ready to do anything to make him like me. So after three years of secretly harboring my love towards him, I could safely say that we were friends. Perhaps even close friends.

Anyways, enough about that, back to the story here. So about two month after "The Incident" (yes I decided to just call it that because of the painful memories it evoked) I was at the library again, reading a book one autumn afternoon. I was no longer banned (thank God!), and had just been exiled from my room because this time Charlotte was with a lacrosse player. Of course, I was filled with self-pity and angry at the world; so, I sat down on "The Chair".

With particular anger towards the male sex, I grabbed the first feminist book I could find and started reading it. Just as I was getting to the part about castrating every male in the world, I heard a giggle behind me.

I turned around, and found a guy with his back to me, making out with a girl.

"We're in a library!" The girl's shrill voice sounded in fake protest.

"Nobody comes here anyways," the guy's ruffled voice replied as he walked backwards towards where I was sitting.

I could only stare aghast at the audacity of the two while in my mind, the words from the book echoed.

Yes, perfect timing for a hormonal male to barge in just as I was reading about cutting off testicles.

Just as the man was ready to sit down, I pushed him off and yelled, "What do you think you are doing?!"

He turned around in surprise and I gasped when I recognized the person in front of me.

Yep, you guessed it, it was James Ashworth.

Perfect timing indeed.

James stared at me for a moment before he recognized me, "You're that ugly chair girl!"

"The ugly chair girl"?! Is he just asking for some serious feminist butt kicking?

Before I could punch him in the face, he laughed and turned toward the girl standing behind him with a pout on her face.

"Sorry about this, Alexis," he said as he kissed her on the cheek, "Why don't I call you later?"

The girl glared at me. Yes, me! What did I ever do to her?

Anyways, I paid no attention to them, and by the time the girl left, I had already gotten back to my book and reading about sterilizing all men.

"You know, you never told me your name," James suddenly appeared in front of me with a smirk on his face.

"I don't think it's necessary," I said without looking up at him.

Before I knew it, he abruptly grabbed the bottom of my chin and turned my face towards him. I looked up.

Holy crap. His face was just a couple of inches away from mine; so close that I can feel his breath on my face. It suddenly felt really hot in the room.

Now, do not misunderstand. This was not because of James Ashworth. I would have reacted the same way if it was Mr. Collins.

"Well," said James, lazily, "I should get the name of the girl who is not only sitting on _my_ chair, but also ruined a chance with a perfectly find girl."

"Well first of all, get your hand off of me," I said indignantly. I might be "ugly", but I still do not appreciate sexual harassment of this kind.

He grinned and took his hand from my chin. The grin widened as he promptly placed both of his hands on the arm rests beside me. My eyes widened when I felt his arms were on either sides of me. I was trapped.

"What do you think you are doing?" I asked, a little breathlessly, trying to hide how flustered I was at the moment.

"What do you think?" He whispered and leaned in even further until I was crushed against the back of the chair and his face was just inches away from mine, "I'm taking my compensation."

He leaned until his lips were almost touching mine while my heart pounded against my chest. And for some reason, I was completely frozen.

A shiver came down my spine when I felt the tip of his lips touch mine, his body practically on top of mine, his breath –

"James Cornelius Ashworth!" A stern voice broke the moment.

I swore under my breath, immediately pushed James off of me and jumped off from the chair as if there was a spring under me.

I looked over to the direction of the voice. Crap. Standing just a few feet from us, a group of fancily dressed people were standing in a cluster. In front, a woman in a pantsuit was staring us, horrified.

"Mom?" James suddenly exclaimed.

MOM?! I gasped and looked at the middle-aged woman again. Yep, there was no denying it. It was definitely Mrs. Ashworth, wife of Senator Edward Ashworth, mother of…

I mentally hit myself in the head and berated myself for not punching that stupid James and leaving before he – Damn it! I started panicking. Mrs. Ashworth is definitely going to call Senator Ashworth, who will call the Secret Police, who will take down my family first. Then, they will come after me, kick me out of school – or worse yet, make me mysteriously disappear from the face of the Earth? Then that stupid James will laugh alongside Charlotte at my funeral – that is, if the NSA will actually let me have one after they are done disposing my body at some unknown US secret base. Then –

My worried were interrupted when Mrs. Ashworth started walking towards me.

Forget about the Secret Police! I would be lucky if that lady doesn't kill me on sight!

To my surprise, she held out her hand to me and smiled, "So you must be the girl James always talks about."

I'm sorry, what?

I stared sideways at James, who also looked stunned.

"Uh…" I managed to utter, "I don't –"

I was interrupted when, to my surprise, James swiftly put his arm around my waist (Eek!) and pulled me closer to him.

"Right! This is her," he said with a laugh, "I guess I really can't hide her anymore!"

Mrs. Ashworth turned to me, took my hand in hers and patted it. "What is your name?" She asked, "James never told it to me because he was afraid I would do a complete background check on you!"

She laughed. I could only stare at her, my mind completely blank.

"I'm just kidding," Mrs. Ashworth laughed again, "But do tell me your name."

"Uh…" I sounded like a complete delinquent, but seriously, who could have sounded all smart in this kind of situation? Finally, I was able to sputter out, "My name…is…uh…Anne! Uh…Anne Hayward."

"What a lovely name!" Mrs. Ashworth exclaimed. She turned towards James and said, "I'm sorry, James. I'm afraid I must go right now. But you have to promise me to bring Anne to Thanksgiving with you this year." She turned to me and bid me a goodbye before setting off somewhere else along with the entourage behind her.

What the hell just happened?

I just stood there, not understanding the full situation at all. I slowly turned to James, who laughed awkwardly.

"Well, I guess you are coming over for Thanksgiving."

I stared at him, and asked, "What did you tell your mother about me?"

James laughed again, "Don't flatter yourself. I never talked to my mother about you specifically."

"Then what was that right now?"

"Well…You see... I have been telling my mother that I have been dating this girl for a few months. Obviously, she doesn't really exist…" He paused, and grinned at me, "So I guess she just assumed that you were the girl I was talking about."

I blinked, not believing what I was hearing. Finally, I was able to say, "Are you saying…that your mother thinks we are dating?"

"Haha…uh…yeah, I guess so."

_I guess so?_ Does he even understand the magnitude of the problem here? This could potentially lead to some nasty misunderstandings!

"Are you an idiot?!" I yelled at him, "You could have just said we broke up!"

James laughed bitterly. "Believe me, if I said that, my mother would find a way to get us back together."

Seriously, what is this? Catch 22? Is there really no way out of this?

Fuming inside and having no other things to say, I sat down again and just glared at the rug under my foot. After a long silence, James walked up to me again.

"Here," he said, "Why don't I offer you a...a deal?"

I looked up at him and said, suspiciously, "What kind of deal?"

"Pretend to be my girlfriend."

You have got to be kidding me.

Since when did this turn into one of those cheesy romantic comedies?

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**A/N** I really cannot believe so many people reviewed! Thanks you so much! Special shout out to The Mystic Limner, who reminded me to update this story. Hope everyone likes this!

REVIEW please! I really love getting feedback (good or bad).


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